Harry Potter and the Forgotten Three
by EddTheDolorous
Summary: In a post-Voldemort world, Harry has a family and a career. Could this all be at risk when he starts having dreams of dark events in a darker place? Meanwhile, his sons, James and Albus, explore Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy deals with a deeply personal loss. Intrigue ensues, with Hermione, Ron, Neville, George, Luna and others all appearing. Will you join Harry in this mission?
1. A Snake's Death

"D'you read the Prophet this morning?"

George said, as Ron walked into work that morning. Work was a loose term for it. Could you call it work if you were running the most successful wizarding joke shop in the United Kingdom south of Leeds? You probably had to, even if it was fun. Ron wouldn't trade working here for anything, especially having seen and experienced what working for the Ministry was like.

"Not yet. Had to see Rose off to Hogwarts. It feels weird, to be honest. She's growing up. Her mum was crying."

"You're getting soft, Ronald. There won't be any tears when me and Angie see off Fred and Roxie next year. There'll be celebrations! The little menaces! Never have twins, brother."

The two of them laughed, and then a moment of silence was shared. It was only last year that their mother had passed on. It had been their father three years before. There had always been an empty absence at the Burrow after Fred, but now the two brothers could barely bring themselves to go back there. How Percy managed to live there Ron didn't know.

"Anyway, what is there to read in the Prophet? Something has you all excited this morning."

George placed the front page on their shared desk. Ron looked down at it. The front of the paper was dominated by a picture of a lone man, with slick, greasy white-blond hair, worn long, with a clean shaven jawline, and grey eyes, which looked dead to the world around him. Clutched to his side was a ten year old boy, who had many of the same physical characteristics.

"What's Draco doing on the front page? I saw him today. Scorpius. What a name to give a kid. He must want him to get kicked at school."

"Watch what you say, Ron. Old Lucius has died. Was reported last night. Apparently he fell from a high point in a Transylvanian ruin the family was visiting."

The picture of Draco was biting his lip, and kept pulling the boy closer to him. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be missed. He had somehow survived being sent to Azkaban, but had never truly abandoned his blood purity beliefs. Still, that didn't mean Ron enjoyed watching the little boy losing his grandfather.

"Rita Skeeter wrote a piece later on about how big a loss he would be to the wizarding community. Its been coming though, hasn't it? Wouldn't surprise me if someone got sick and tired of his opinions and threw him to his death."

Ron flicked through the paper, only semi-listening to what George was saying. There were pictures of Lucius littered throughout it, with various luminaries of the Wizarding World offering their insight into his death. Rita Skeeter thought it a tragedy, whilst Elphias Doge thought it was about time. Even Gwenog Jones had an opinion on the matter.

"Poor Draco."

Ron muttered the words under his breath, not loud enough for his brother to hear them.

"Draco?"

"Mother."

Draco Malfoy found himself sat on an ornate bench looking out at the gardens of Malfoy Manor. The house had gone into much disrepair since the Dark Lord's death. The Malfoy name had meant little in the new world, and their wealth had soon vanished. Draco hadn't minded.

His father had. Lucius Malfoy had not been one for an early retirement before working in his garden, planting shrubs and flowers and then watching them grow. His resentment had festered. He would blame anyone that he could for his family's demise, be that muggleborns, blood traitors, or Harry Potter himself. A lot of the time he had blamed Draco.

"A Malfoy man should have a proper job and a proper wife. That Greengrass girl is beneath you, and collecting trinkets is the work of a Borgin or a Burke, not a Malfoy."

He could hear those words in his head now. His father had told him them on his wedding day. Draco had never forgotten them. He had never forgotten the face on his father's face when Astoria lay on her deathbed either. Gone. It was all gone.

And despite all that, despite everything that his father had done both for the Dark Lord and without him, he couldn't bring himself to hate the man. He couldn't beat away the feelings of loss that now plagued him. It had been worse when Astoria died. Was that sick? Comparing the feelings of loss after the passing of different loved ones.

He found that his mother had sat herself won on the bench next to him. She was clad all in black, to commemorate his father. It was the same dress that she had worn to Astoria's funeral. He should feel closer to his mother now, probably. This year had made widows of them both.

"The Prophet are asking for a few words from you-"

"The Prophet?! Father is dead, mother. Astoria is dead. Scorpio is gone, and now you want me to think about the wills and whims of Rita Skeeter and her accursed newspaper?"

He found himself standing, though he didn't remember rising. There was rage in his voice, and in his blood, but he didn't feel it in his brain. He just felt loss and apathy to the world around him. Maybe that was why he was angry. Was it because the world cared? The same world that had taken his wife and his father from him.

"We must look strong, Draco. The Malfoy name-"

"The Malfoy name? You think I care about the Malfoy name? Do you still cling on to the idea that our name means anything in this world. For all that father was, at least he understood what place our family now has. You dress up in your fineries and attend your parties and pretend to yourself that the Malfoys are anything more than insignificant. You're lying to yourself, mother."

Narcissa Malfoy looked at her son, before rising herself and walking off. In her defence, she didn't run, but walked, in the same proud way that she always had. Draco found himself sobbing now, and he had sunk back down to the bench. He took off the locket that he wore around his neck, and opened it.

Inside was a picture of his Astoria, as beautiful as the day that he had fallen in love with her, smiling back at him. He couldn't help but smile back, as his tears stained the glass.

"Gryffindor!"

The Sorting Hat bellowed the words for the entire Great Hall to hear, and Rose Granger-Weasley ran off to the table where people had risen to their feet in applause. Albus watched it happen, from the group that was yet to be sorted. He saw Neville- Professor- Longbottom applauding from the staff table.

"Scorpius Malfoy!"

The words were called out by Professor Flitwick, and a hush fell on the room. The same would have happened any other day, because the Malfoys had supported He Who Must Not Be Named during the Second Wizarding War. Today the hush felt even deathlier, however, as new had filtered through the students of Hogwarts that Lucius Malfoy had just been announced dead.

The boy that stepped forward didn't look like much of a monster. He was thin, but not lean, with shimmering grey eyes and slicked back blond hair. He had a sharp jawline, and thin lips. He looked like a Malfoy, but there was something about his eyes that made Albus understand that the boy was both sad and scared.

The Sorting Hat sat on his head for a few seconds, before letting out its assessment on where he should go.

"Slytherin!"

There wasn't much in the way of applause for the boy as he shuffled off to take his place at the Slytherin table. Even the usually rowdy and hollering Slytherin students were quiet. Was that out of respect? Fear? Contempt?

Two more names were called forward. Aaron Finnigan was sent to Gryffindor, whilst Amelia Bones was allocated to Ravenclaw. They were both children of people that had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Albus Potter!"

There was another hush as Albus' own name was called out by the diminutive professor. He felt all the pressure in the world as he stepped up and took his place on that stool. He looked out over the four house tables. There was Ravenclaw, for the smart, Hufflepuff, for the friendly, Slytherin, for the ambitious, and Gryffindor, for the brave. That was where everybody would expect him to go.

The hat started to speak to him as it took its own place atop his brown hair.

"Hmmm… Yes… A powerful bloodline here… Ambition aplenty… To overcome your father's name? Potter? Definitely brave, but also clever too… There's a lot of Weasley in you, boy… I can feel it… I've seen enough Weasleys in my time… Yes… Yes… I see it clearly… There can only be one choice for you, Potter…"

He crossed his fingers. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he wanted the hat to say.

"Hufflepuff!"

The hat bellowed into the Great Hall. The words were met with instant cheers from the yellow and black table, the badger of Helga Hufflepuff fluttering above them. Albus found himself beaming as he walked towards their table. He was so happy with the choice that he almost didn't hear the sound of boos coming his way from the Gryffindor table.

They were silenced quickly by an embrace from his cousin.

Victoire's arms surrounded him before he could take his seat, and he felt her lips on his head. She had told him on the train that she wanted him to join her in Hufflepuff. She had been the only person that he had told which house he secretly wanted to be. Now they were here together.

"Ignore James."

She said. There was a hint of French to her accent, but she was trying to get rid of it. She preferred to be called Victoria when not in earshot of her mother.

"Take your seat, Albus Potter. Welcome to Hufflepuff House."

The gravestones of Little Hangleton cemetery rose high into the night. The darkness surrounded their bases, but the moon shone light on the names that were written there. Tom Riddle Senior. Frank Bryce. Tom Riddle Junior. This was where the bones of the most deadly dark wizard of all time had been laid to rest. This was one of the darkest places in the Wizarding World.

The old Riddle House sat at the top of the hill, looking out over the place. Tonight, just like every other night for the past eighteen years, there was no light in the window. The Riddles were all dead.

And yet something moved between the gravestones. It was a shadowy shape, vaguely human, and it walked with some speed. It stopped before the simple stone with the name Tom Riddle Junior etched into it, and placed a hand on the cold slate. It was just a few seconds, and then it was moving again.

In the centre of the cemetery there was a few feet of empty space. There the figure stopped, and there he waited. Soon he was joined by one more, and then another. They were three shadows, hidden in darkness. They were three.

A snake passed along the ground, past the stone that bore the name, that bore his name, that bore Voldemort's name.

The three figures stood and waited for it, and when it came they waited some more. A few seconds, though they felt like minutes, hours, days. A few seconds more they waited, under the slit eyes of the watchful snake. A few seconds more. Then they stepped forward. Then they stepped out of the shadows.

And then Harry Potter woke from his sleep, a cold sweat on his brow. A cold sweat where the scar had used to burn. The shadowy figures were gone. The snake was gone. Just a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds.


	2. Classrooms and Graveyards

Harry was sat down at the family table. The bowl of porridge in front of him was only half eaten. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw those shadows in the graveyard. He saw the snake. He saw the name written on the stone, the name of the darkest wizard that had ever lived. The name of the man that killed his parents. Why had they been there? Why was the snake important? Who were they? There were too many unanswered questions.

He was interrupted by the sound of someone else, and remembered that he wasn't alone in the kitchen. Ginny was here too, bustling around, preparing them both flasks of coffee to take with them to work, and sandwiches that they could eat together at lunch. Usually Harry would have helped her, but today…

"You're thinking about it too much, dear. Its only natural for you have bad dreams the night that Albus goes away. You love him, and you miss him. There's nothing wrong with that. You're a father. Its to be expected. You can't always be the brave Harry Potter that they talk about in the papers."

Ginny still thought it was just a bad dream. She hadn't seen it. She hadn't seen them. She hadn't felt their presence in that cemetery, or seen the vividness of the shadows that covered their faces. She didn't know what it felt to see these things, to feel that darkness inside of you. How could she? There was nothing but goodness in her.

After he had found out the truth about how he survived… After he had confronted Voldemort and after he had killed him… He couldn't was himself clean enough. The entire Wizarding World saw him as a saviour. They held him up as a sign of their triumph against the darkness, and yet he felt dirtier than he ever had. All that time, a part of the man who murdered his parents had been inside him all that time.

He would never truly be clean of that.

Maybe she was partly right though. It did feel strange to not have Albus sat at the dinner table with them. James was never awake before ten, and Lily often scoffed down her food fast before running off to play in her room. Albus often helped his mother make breakfast. He was a boy beyond his years, was what Harry had always said.

"You should write him a letter. That will get your mind off all this graveyard business. Write letters to him and James, wishing them a good school year."

"I already wished them a good year, darling. I don't want to smother them. They already have the task of getting past being our children, without me sending constant reminders to their classmates."

Ginny rolled her eyes at that, and Harry felt a smile push onto his face. Suddenly the thought of the shadows in the graveyard was gone, and instead all he could think of was how hard Ginny tried to make him feel better when he was down. Maybe she didn't understand what it had felt like in that dream, but she knew how to make him feel better here and now.

He would visit Little Hangleton later today, he decided, to see what the situation was. There had to be something there. If there wasn't then maybe Ginny was right. Maybe this was nothing. But if there was something…

"What do you have on at work today, dear?"

He looked back up from his thoughts. He was finding himself very easily distracted this morning. Or maybe he was just preoccupied with more important things than Ginny's idle conversation.

"Kingsley wants me to send a few Aurors over to Transylvania to look into this Malfoy death, and I think I'm meant to be in a meeting with him and Hermione this morning. Something about a prisoner being released from Azkaban. Guess I'll find out more when I'm there."

"Sounds intense. All I have on is a meeting with the Umpire's Association to discuss salary changes."

"Yeah… Well… I should get going. See you for lunch."

"Sure. See you then. Have a good day, dear."

And so Harry swept out of the room, leaving Ginny alone behind him, with one destination in mind. He had to visit Little Hangleton.

Albus woke up from his first sleep within the walls of Hogwarts to the sound of cheering come from the common room. The room that he shared with five other boys was bathed in a warm and welcoming light. He threw off the Patchwork quilt, and quickly dressed himself in his Hogwarts robes. He left the pointed hat under the bed, hoping no prefect would tell him off for not wearing one.

Then he passed through the circular door and into the plush, comfortable Hufflepuff common room. There was a crowd of students already gathered, of varying ages, watching on as Victoria and a boy from her year danced around each other. Victoria was laughing and smiling, and so Albus laughed and smiled too. He liked this feeling of community.

Eventually the two of them stopped, and Victoria fell into one of the comfortable seats, laughing as the boy collapsed on the floor panting. She spotted Albus and waved for him to come over and sit beside her, and so he did.

The chair was plump and comfy, with plenty of cushioning inside it. He found himself sinking back into the furniture.

The boy that Victoria had been dancing with got up and came over to them. He was tall and lean. He had the body of a Quidditch player. His hair was long and brown, and his front two teeth were slightly crooked when he smiled. If Albus didn't already know how strong Victoria felt about Teddy, then he might have wondered whether his godbrother should feel jealous about this man

"Ahhh, you two will not know each other. Albus, this is Eamon Hunter. He's the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Eamon, you will already know Albus."

Eamon nodded, and seated himself down opposite them. Albus couldn't help but feel slightly smug about the fact that he had guessed the guy played Quidditch. He was good at reading people. Eamon didn't sit back into the chair like Albus or Victoria. Instead he leaned forward. There was an intensity in him, but it wasn't unpleasant to be around.

"Unbelievable. I am sat with the son of the great Ginny Weasley. Your mum was one of my idols growing up."

Albus put on a smile for that. It was true that he got recognised as Harry Potter's son a lot, but loads of people also brought up his mum too. They were all really disappointed when he told them that he couldn't play. He could barely catch the quaffle. James had inherited all the talent and skill in the family.

"You should try out for the team. I know we aren't supposed to allow first years in, but your dad… And then your brother played for Gryffindor in his first year."

"Albus doesn't play. He's like me. He prefers watching, don't you Albus?"

He silently thanked Victoria for that. She knew that Quidditch talk, especially when it was about his parents and James, upset him, and she also knew that he had a habit of not shutting down those conversations when they started. He was very thankful that she was here.

"What class do you have first, Albus? Do you know yet?"

"I have Herbology, with Professor Longbottom. That should be fun! Then I have Astronomy in the evening. I have my first flying lesson tomorrow. Great."

Victoria put her hand on his knee.

"I heard there's going to be a new flying teacher. He used to be a professional or something. He wasn't at the feast yesterday though. I checked.

Albus cocked his head slightly, and looked at Victoria quizzically.

"How do you know it's a he?"

Victoria rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Oh, Albus. A girl knows these things."

Even during the day there was a darkness to the small Yorkshire village of Little Hangleton. The place was dominated by the ominous Riddle House, which sat atop it, overlooking the residents. It was sad and abandoned, but still the stench of evil hung in the air. Dark things had happened here. Some of the darkest things known in the wizarding world. Were they happening again?

Harry apparated down into the cemetery gates. He looked around quickly, to see if anyone had spotted him, before pushing on into the graveyard. So many of the stones bore the name Riddle. Some of them were large, ornate tombstones, whilst others were just jagged slate slabs, pointing to the heavens above them. Generations of Riddles were buried here.

Every now and again, Harry would pass a blackened tree. There were no leaves, but the branches twisted and turned around each other. Harry could swear that they looked like a wisened old crone. It wasn't helping his feeling that somebody was watching him.

He skulked past the tombstone of Tom Riddle Senior. He stopped for a few seconds in the spot where Cedric had been killed all those years ago and he remembered his fallen comrade. He remembered all of them. Cedric. Lupin. Sirius. Moody. Tonks. Dumbledore. There were others, who had fallen since the great war.

The deaths of Mr and Mrs Weasley had hit him hard, though not as hard as it had hit Ron and Ginny. Sturgis Podmore had died in his sleep a few weeks after the war ended, and Aberforth had followed his elder brother into the lands of the dead a few years past. They had all thought that Oliver Wood was a gonner when he got injured playing for the Chudley Cannons, but he had made a surprising recovery, though he would never plat Quidditch again.

He walked on, up to the stone that bore the name that he most feared and most detested.

Tom Riddle Junior.

He had been against the burial, but many had insisted upon it. Still, he had gotten one last insult in there. Lord Voldemort would be forever remembered by his hated muggle father's name. That was his legacy. This was what generations would see. The greatest dark wizard of all time remembered by the name that he had hated. It was not justice, but it made Harry smile.

"You come here, Harry Potter… The Boy Who Lived… The Boy Who Died… To find me?"

The voice rang around the graveyard, and Harry stumbled backwards. No. No. It couldn't be. The voice was snake-like and rasping. There was venom in those words, and a mocking cruelty. It was a voice that he knew too well. It was him. It was Voldemort.

"You're dead. I- I killed you. I defeated you. There were no more horcruxes. You are gone!"

The voice then turned to laughter, and Harry moved himself back along the ground, away from the tombstone that bore his enemy's name. Away from the source of the cruel laughter and the mocking voice. He pushed himself back until he hit something. It didn't feel like the cold touch of stone. He looked up, and looking down at him was a pair of cold, grey eyes.

"So you go down there and to the right. Then take another left and its just down the stairs. Do you think you can remember that?"

Albus rolled his eyes in the same way that Victoria had taught him how to do herself. She laughed at that.

"Yes, Victoria. I remember."

"Good. Now you better be going. Tell Professor Longbottom I said hello. Bisou bisou, Albus."

He turned away from her and set off on his first unaccompanied journey through Hogwarts. It was scary. There was a group of third year Slytherins milling about, and a couple of second year Ravenclaw girls walked past him. He felt their eyes on him, and heard their whispers as he passed them. He sighed, and put his head down and started to walk.

He did what Victoria had told him, and soon he arrived at the Herbology Greenhouses. Professor Longbottom, who Albus knew better as Neville, was already there, along with a selection of Ravenclaws who had arrived for class early. Albus found himself sat at a table with two of them.

"My name is Malcolm Fudge. My great-uncle was Minister for Magic. He knew your father. Always tells me about how close he was with the great Harry Potter. We should be friends."

Albus rolled his eyes again and slouched back. Was this how things were always going to be? He had wanted to be in Hufflepuff partly to avoid the constant conversations with people about who his dad was.

"Sure."

Albus knew all about Malcolm's great-uncle. His dad had told him all about the former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who had vilified him and Albus' namesake, the legendary Professor Dumbledore, for believing that Lord Voldemort had returned from his temporary death. Fudge had been wrong to do that. The fact that he had been bragging to his nephew about it caused Albus to be a little sick inside.

A girl sat next to him. She wasn't one of the girls that had been sorted into Hufflepuff the night before, so she must be a Ravenclaw. Albus recognised her eventually as Amelia Bones, whose mother, Susan, had fought and survived the Battle of Hogwarts.

"I'm late, aren't I? My mum said I'd be late. I'm always late. Wait. No. That isn't how to start a conversation. Think, Amelia. Think. Oh. Hey there. My name is Amelia. What's yours?"

The girl offered him a hand, and Albus tentatively took it in his and shook it. Did she really not know who he was.

"My name is Albus Potter. I'm a-"

"Hufflepuff. I worked that out. I never forget a face. Well, rarely ever. Some faces are just so boring. Don't you think? Not yours though. I'll remember your name, Alvin."

"Erm. Albus."

Amelia waved his interruption away as if it was nothing, which he supposed it was. There was definitely something odd about this girl, but not in a bad way. She spoke too fast for him to keep up with, but he'd much rather that than being constantly reminded about his heritage, which people like Malcolm would do.

"Albus or Alvin. It doesn't really matter, does it? You can call me Amy if you want. A lot of people do, though I've never asked them to. I guess Amelia sounds a bit too formal for some people, but I like it. Do you want to be friends?"

Albus didn't need to think. He had taken a liking to this bizarre and scatterbrained girl. His mum had told him to try and make friends with some people on his first proper day.

"Yeah. I would."

Draco Malfoy looked down at Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who was lying on the floor of the graveyard of Little Hangleton. He had expected it to be deserted here. He hadn't expected anyone to be here, let alone Harry.

Truth be told, the two of them got on much better than they ever had as children. Maybe they had both grown up and at the same time they had grown enough to respect and at times even like the other. However now was not a time that he was happy to see Potter. Now was a time that he wanted to be alone.

Harry got back to his feet, and looked over at Draco. His grey eyes had always been cold, but now they seemed to have a sad deadness. There was no sharpness to them. The year had held its effects on Draco.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry didn't mean for that to be as confrontational as it sounded. He was just surprised to see his supposedly reformed enemy here, at the grave of his arch nemesis. Had Draco reverted back to his old ways? It was like Luna said, a Crumple Horned Snorcack never changed its horn. Or something like that.

"This is- Was one of my father's favourite places to come when he needed to think. I thought I would come here one last time to think of him."

"I- I was sorry to hear, Draco-"

Malfoy raised his hand to stop Harry from talking. He stared down at the ground. Harry thought that he could see a tear run down Draco's shallow cheeks.

Stop, Harry. If I hear one more person tell me they were sorry to hear of my father's death then I might apparate away and never come back. You weren't sorry. You knew what he was. Everyone knew. He didn't hide it. He didn't want to."

Harry breathed in. Draco wasn't wrong. The entire wizarding world had known that Lucius had still held the old ways of his family. He still participated in the dark arts, and hated that muggleborns had become more prominent. Still, Harry did feel sorry for Draco, and for Scorpius. After Astoria earlier in the year, and now this?

"I know what he was too, Harry. I understand. He was still my father. He raised me. He wasn't that man to me, not always. Sometimes he was kind and loving. Even to Scorpius. Especially to Scorpius. I miss him."

"I understand, Draco."

Harry moved to console the man that had once been his enemy. Draco pulled away, turned back to look at him.

"I'm sorry that I disturbed you, Harry. I should be going."

"Draco-"

But before Harry could tell him to stay, Draco Malfoy had apparated away, leaving a strange emptiness in the graveyard. Harry turned back to the grave, and it was only then when he saw the glint of a metal object from behind the stone.

He hurried over and pulled away the plants that had grown behind the tomb. That was when he found it, hidden behind the grave of his mortal enemy.

A shovel.


	3. The Release

Two lines had been set up on the field beneath the grand castle of Hogwarts. There was Hufflepuff on the right, and Gryffindor on the right. Members of each house were glaring at the other. There was bad blood because the two houses were set to meet for the first game of the Quidditch Cup in a few days time. Albus found himself stood opposite a large Gryffindor boy that he didn't recognise.

He yawned deeply. He was still tired from the night before, which he had spent with Professor Sinistra and the Slytherins atop the Astronomy Tower. It had just been an introduction, but he still hadn't been in bed until three, and had been woken up at eight by one of the other boys.

They were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new Flying Professor. Well, everyone else was. Albus had never enjoyed flying as much as everyone else said he should. James was much better at it than he was.

"Welcome, students!"

Albus had been looking up at the castle, waiting for the Professor to take the path down, but instead he was surprised to hear the voice coming from the other side. He turned his head, but there was no one there. Some of the other kids gasped when they looked up, and so he did too. What he saw was a man sat atop a broomstick, dressed in the orange kit of the Chudley Cannons.

The figure was burly and had brown hair with a large forehead. Albus potted that the man had a slight limp when he landed and started to walk. There was the faintest of winces when he stepped on his left foot.

"I am your Flying teacher for the coming year. In my class you will learn the basics of flight safety, and by the end of the year you should all be competent and proficient on a broom. Now, I understand that some of you, maybe most, will never have flown a broom before. I can assure you, that until you are ready we will be doing nothing which could put any of you in danger. Today we will practice how to mount the broom. Let us begin."

Albus' eyes darted around the other kids, but none of them looked keen to answer the burning question, and so he raised his own hand. The professor noticed, and nodded for him to ask his question.

"Excuse me, Professor, but what exactly should we call you? You didn't give your name."

The man smiled, nodded, and then laughed.

"Why you're right. I didn't, did I? I had been practicing that speech all last night and I forgot my name. You're Albus Potter, aren't you? Well, my name is Wood. Professor Oliver Wood."

Hermione found herself sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk of the Minister of Magic. The second chair was empty. It had been reserved for Harry, but something had stopped him from getting into work on time. She had been telling him that he needed to work on that for months, but he refused to listen.

Sat opposite her was the imposing figure of the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Of course, she had known Kingsley during the Second Wizarding War, and the man hadn't changed much since then. He hadn't had much hair to lose in the first place, and he was, indeed, still bald. The only difference as far as Hermione could see was a set of pinched wrinkles around his eyes. He certainly didn't look old.

"I apologise for Mr Potter, sir. I do tell him not to be late but- Well, you know how stubborn he can be. He doesn't listen to good advice."

Kingsley raised his hand, and she took that as a signal to be quiet, and so she stopped talking. She always struggled to talk up to the Minister, even though they knew each other personally.

"Harry Potter is not under your control. Not since the Auror office was made separate to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Miss Granger. If he chooses to be late then that is up to him. Do not blame yourself."

There was something calming about the way that Minister Shacklebolt spoke, Hermione hadn't seen him get angry in a long time. He was a bit like Professor Dumbledore in that regard. He had a good control over his emotions. She wished that she had that character trait somewhere in her locker.

Just then, the door opened. A frantic looking Harry stepped into the room. His trousers were scuffed and his hair was a mess, but it was always like that. Still, he could have at least worn clean clothes for a meeting this important.

"I'm sorry for my lateness, King- Minister. Have you started without me?"

"We have not, Mr Potter. Please take your seat next to Miss Granger."

Harry took his seat, and flashed a small smile at her. She humphed slightly at that, and didn't return it, turning to look at Kingsley.

"Now, you are both aware of why we are here, yes? Both your departments must have preparations put in place for the release of this particular prisoner from Azkaban. Mr Potter, can you talk me through the ways that the Auror Office intends to accommodate?"

"Ahh. Yes. Well… I will be in personal attendance of course, and I'll take… Erm.. Macmillan and… And Dubrovski-"

Kingsley leaned over and interrupted Harry from talking. She rolled her eyes. Harry clearly hadn't prepared for this at all.

"Mr Potter, can you tell me the name of the prisoner that we are releasing from Azkaban? I'll give you three guesses."

Harry bit his lip. It was clear that he didn't know. Kingsley was playing with him.

"Macnair? No. Mulciber? Not him? Scabior? Not him either. Then who?"

"You need to start reading the documents that I send to your office, Mr Potter. The woman we are releasing is none other than Dolores Umbridge. I have been told you have some personal problems with her. You must not let them cloud your judgement on this issue. She has served her time in Azkaban, and is to be remanded to the care of Miss Granger's Department."

"You sure that he came down here, right?"

Ron looked around at the dark, damp, squalid conditions that surrounded him. It was dark and shadowy, and he could barely hear the muttered words spoken by the various witches and wizards that slipped by him. People didn't want to be seen here.

"Yeah."

George responded. Ron's brother was looking around, trying to find the boy that had pilfered some of their fanged frisbees. George had spotted him, and the kid had ducked down into here. Nocturne Alley.

"Its only a few galleons, George. We don't need to contact the aurors over this. Its just a little kid and a few galleons."

"If mum heard you quibble over a few galleons then she'd grab you by the ear."

The two brothers stayed silent for a few seconds. That always happened when one of them mentioned their mum, or their dad. They tried to avoid mentioning them, but sometimes one of them would make a joke without thinking. Ron looked at George. There was more sadness in his brother's eyes than usual. It wasn't just mum then. He was thinking of Fred.

"That was in the old days. We can spare a few galleons going missing. There's no second-hand robes now. No discount books or pets. Just let the boy go. Are you telling me that it isn't something you would have done when you were his age?"

George shrugged. Ron knew that his brother didn't like thinking about his childhood too much. It was one of the many things that reminded him of Fred. He still cracked jokes, but George had never smiled in the same way since that day. It was always like he was being wistful. Like he wondered whether Fred would have liked his joke.

"And mum would have given me a right telling off for it. Clipped me round the head as well, more than like."

Just then, the brothers heard a squeak coming from behind a nearby rubbish bin. There were black bags piled up around it. George smirked at Ron, before walking over to it. Cowering behind it was a young boy who looked about seven years old. In his hands was a bag of fanged frisbees. George pulled him forward, and one of the black bags fell over spilling its contents over the street.

Ron looked down at the rubbish whilst George reprimanded the boy. It was mostly just junk, as you might expect, but then something caught his eye. It was a shadowy moving picture of Lucius Malfoy, a young Draco clutched beneath his hand. Lucius was tall and with a sneer on his face.

There was no surprise in the picture. Papers had been running the Lucius story since it broke a few days ago. No, what surprised Ron was something else. The title of the newspaper.

The Quibbler

Albus felt himself getting buffeted around by the crowds that were around him. It was a sea of black and yellow badges, scarves and hats, all of them bearing the badger of Hufflepuff. They were high of the ground, and he found himself sat next to Victoria, and two of her seventh year friends, both of whom were girls.

Across from them was the Gryffindor stand, filled with the same things as the Hufflepuff equivalent, but instead of black and yellow they were red and gold, and where Hufflepuffs bore the badger, Gryffindors had the proud and noble lion. It was Gryffindor that Hufflepuff were playing today. Somewhere in that crowd was Rose, baying for Hufflepuff blood.

And then the teams came out below them. Albus recognised the figure and frame of Eamon Hunter leading the Hufflepuff group out. Most of their players were in their seventh year, but the seeker was a third year and one of the chasers was a second year new to the team. He got a larger round of applause from the Hufflepuffs. Albus didn't remember his name. He wasn't even sure if he had met the boy yet.

He didn't recognise most of the Gryffindors either, but James got an almighty applause from both the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Albus watched his brother fistpump the air as the sound echoed around the pitch. He was such a showman. He enjoyed the attention.

After the teams came out, Professor Wood followed them, as he was going to be the official referee for the match. He exchanged some words with Eamon and the Gryffindor captain, who was a sixth year brunette girl. The two captains shook hands and then returned to their brooms and their teams.

They surged up into the air, and the balls were released, with Wood flying up to join them.

Albus could barely keep up with the game. He cheered when Eamon scored the first goal of the game, but mostly because the rest of the Hufflepuffs did, and he booed when a Gryffindor beater tried to knock the second year chaser off his broom with a well-aimed bludger, but that was again because most of the other Hufflepuffs did.

Victoria was mostly talking to her friends, but occasionally she leant over and whispered something in his ear. Sometimes it would be an update on the score, or a piece of seventh year gossip about two people Albus didn't know being caught making out in the potions storeroom.

The game seemed to go on for two hours before Albus saw James dart off from his position high above the pitch. That must mean that he had seen the snitch. The Hufflepuff seeker was quick after him, and the two started to circle the pitch, with James just ahead of his Hufflepuff equivalent.

Albus found himself oddly engaged in the race. He felt like a Hufflepuff win would vindicate his preferred choice of house. If they could beat Gryffindor…

His heart dropped as James started to raise his arm. That must mean the snitch was in catching distance. Just as he reached forward, however, a boy on a broom flew straight in front of him, sending James spiralling to the ground and hitting it with a crash. The Hufflepuff seeker was knocked off balance, but kept his place on the broom, before reaching forward and grasping his hand around the golden meta of the snitch.

Hufflepuff won!

Harry found himself stood on a dreary dock that looked out over a grey lake, with grey clouds in the sky. It was nearly always raining here. He didn't have an umbrella, and so his hair was wet and messy, stuck down to his forehead. Off in the distance was a towering structure built on an island in the middle of the lake.

Azkaban Prison.

A boat was being rowed across the lake. It was making slow progress and all he could do was stand here and wait for it. One of his companions stepped forward.

"Should we do something, Harry? I can't believe she's getting out, but if she has to then we could at least be dry when she gets here."

Harry looked at the man. It was mild-mannered Ernie MacMillan. He had been a Hufflepuff in the same year as Harry, and had fought valiantly in the Battle of Hogwarts, He had also been a member of Dumbledore's Army, and was now one of his most trusted aurors, after Ron and Neville left and Dawlish retired. They were joined by Dimitar Dubrovski, a graduate from Durmstrang. Harry wasn't sure why he worked at the British Ministry. He had been there when he had arrived.

"I thought she was in here for life too, Ernie. I didn't- I wasn't consulted on this. Minister Shacklebolt made his decision without asking me. If I'd had my say then she would have rotted behind bars until her last day. This is not my choice."

Silence then followed as they all waited for the inevitable. Soon the row boat was docked, and the prisoner was brought forward. She wasn't wearing any of her pink clothes or lipstick, but her toad face was just as it always had been. She let out one of her stupid giggles and cocked her head slightly.

"Mr Potter, I was expecting to see you here."


	4. The Locked Room

"Dolores."

Harry escorted the toad faced Umbridge into the small shack that stood just to the right of the Azkaban jetty. It was unsafe for released prisoners to be magically transported, and so two more Aurors were bringing a van that would contain the woman that he hated more than anyone else in the world.

She looked strange without the sickly pink clothes that he remembered her in when she had 'taught' at Hogwarts. She still had the same expression. It made this blood boil, and the scar that she had left him on the back of his hand started to prickle. She wasn't the first person imprisoned after the Second Wizarding War that had left Azkaban, but she was only the second to have left alive.

Why was Kinglsey making him do this? He had seen what Umbridge did when Thicknesse had been Minister for Magic. He knew what she was capable of.

"This is all very… Quaint. I assume that I shall be escorted to more suitable premises soon, Mr Potter."

"You already left the premises most suitable for you and your kind, Dolores. I'll be watching and waiting, primed for the right opportunity where I can send you straight back to Azkaban."

Dolores tutted at him, which just made him all the angrier.

"So much anger for such a heroic individual. Why would you send me back to Azkaban when I am as much a part of you as anyone else? You think your blood traitor wife compares to me? Has she marked you like I have?"

Her eyes made a darting gesture towards his right hand. There was a smug smile on her toad face. It just made him angrier. Was that what she thought? Had she spent her entire time in Azkaban thinking that she had somehow contributed to the defeat of Lord Voldemort? Had she bragged about it? No, surely not. Not when she had been surrounded by other war criminals and Death Eaters.

"You should be thanking me, Mr Potter. Not throwing me back in a jail cell."

He found that he was grinding his teeth. He didn't want to spend another moment in this room with the horrible woman. He turned to leave. When he got to the door she spoke again.

"I said that you ought to be thanking me."

He turned to her, a steely look in his eyes. His words were little more than a hushed whisper, and yet they seemed to echo through the small shack. Even the bats that had been twittering in the rafters stopped their noises.

"I have nothing to thank you for, Dolores, and I mustn't tell lies."

And with that he closed the door, cutting Dolores Umbridge off from the outside world.

"Huffleduffer!"

"Badger Boy!"

The names hadn't stopped all morning. Whenever he passed a Gryffindor in the corridor, no matter if they were in their first year or their seventh, they would call out one of the names that they had come up with for him. Even some of the Ravenclaws and Slytherins had started getting involved. It was the price that you paid for being the most famous member of Hufflepuff House, he guessed.

He would always be the centre of the attacks when they were being directed at Hufflepuff.

Right now he was trying to get to his third Charms class of the school year. Professor Flitwick could be rather jolly, but he was not fond of lateness, and so Albus found himself having to hurry along the second floor corridor.

Then he felt a push in his back, and he was sent flying down to the floor. His books went everywhere, and he heard a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors snigger as he rolled over to look at his assailant.

It was James.

"Your captain almost broke my arm, you cheating duffer. Wait till I tell dad that you're part of a house that cheats like that to win a game of Quidditch. Wait till I tell mum."

Albus tried to pull himself up to his feet, but James just pushed him down again. His brother was bigger and stronger than he was, and could have quite the temper if you caught him in a bad mood. Albus had been too scared to visit him in the Hospital Wing.

"Stay down, Badger Boy."

That wasn't James' voice. It was a girl's. Albus' heart sank when he saw that rose was stood just behind his older brother, joining in on his attempt to embarasss Albus. Was all of his family going to turn against him?

"I didn't crash into you. I didn't even want to be there. You know that I don't like Quidditch, James."

"Yeah, well you were there. You're a filthy blood traitor. That's what you are. You're a disgrace to the Potter name."

There were more laughs from the ever growing crowd of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Albus couldn't see any Hufflepuffs amassing around them.

"What's all this?"

Albus heard the boy's voice ring out through the corridor, and then the large figure of Eamon Hunter pushing through the crowds of students. Victoria and a few of her friends were with him. James turned to them, as if thinking that he and Rose could win a fight against five seventh years.

"Just restoring some of the natural order against you cheating Hufflepuffs. We should have won that Quidditch game and you know it, Hunter."

"You can ay that all you like, Potter, but the scoreboard says otherwise. You can have all the natural talent in the world, but you wouldn't make it on my team. A disgrace to the Potter name? What do you think your dad would think of you for doing that to your brother?"

"Go to your lesson, James. I'll be sending an owl to your mum this evening."

Victoria's eyes were steely cold as she stared down at James. Albus had only ever seen her like that once before, when Teddy had jokingly suggested she might have put on a few pounds over Christmas two years earlier.

And so the crowd dispersed, as there was nothing left to watch. James and Rose djsappeared with it, with James mumbling under his breath as he did. Albus was left wit just the seventh years, who helped him to pick up his books.

There was a loud crack that echoed around as Ron and George apparated into a barn. Ron looked around, initially put off by their location, before then looking quizzically over to George, who shrugged slightly and walked over to the barn door.

"I've never been very accurate."

He flung the door open and revealed the rolling hills that surrounded Ottery St Catchpole, and the ramshackle house that had, for so many years, been their home. Chickens clucked around the coup, and, if Ron wasn't mistaken, there was a goblin prancing around in the garden. He breathed in, and took in the smell that he associated with the Burrow.

The smell of home.

There was another crack, and the two brother's had their attentions turned to where their younger sister had suddenly appeared. She hadn't ended up in the barn, of course. Ginny had landed just inside the gate. Exactly where she meant to.

"Why are you in the barn exactly?"

There was a curious look on Ginny's face, masked with the typical Weasley smile, which captured her bemusement perfectly. She had taken a day off from her work at the Ministry to be here today. It was time for a Weasley reunion.

Just then the three siblings were interrupted when a woman came out through the front door. She was thin and quite short, with brown hair that she wore in a bushy ponytail. Her eyes were an ordinary brown. She was Percy's wife, Audrey Fawley, who had taken the Weasley name. The three siblings got on with her well, though she wasn't the most fun-loving. She was the perfect match for Percy.

"Your brothers are inside. I just put some water on to boil. Percy might make you a tea if you ask him nicely."

Ron nodded awkwardly, whilst George looked away. Ginny sighed, and thanked the woman, who stepped out of their way as they stepped inside.

Bill was sat in their father's favourite armchair. The scars on his face were no less visible from time passing, though he seemed more comfortable with them. He still wore his red hair long, so that some of the scars were obscured from view. He was without Fleur, his wife, who was on a business trip to the south of France. Or something. Ron couldn't remember what the official reason was.

Bill and Fleur had been having problems ever since Molly had passed on. Bill and Charlie had arranged the funeral, and Fleur had decided that she couldn't come at the last minute, leaving Bill alone to deliver his eulogy. He hadn't forgiven her yet.

Charlie had come back for the funeral, and for a month or two after, to spend some time with the family, but was back in Romania now.

Percy was stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand firmly placed on the bannister, and his long face slightly pale. He was staring at the Weasley family clock, which was opposite the basin. There were more hands now, as the family had significantly grown. The hands for James, Albus, Rose and Victoria were all pointing squarely at school, whilst those of Ron, George. Bill and Percy himself were all home.

It was more the Weasleys who weren't on there that troubled him. It had been the hardest thing he'd ever done, removing his mother's. She herself had wept when their father had taken out Fred's.

The Weasleys were broken.

Albus came up from underneath the desk that he had been hiding under. It had been twenty minutes since the charms class had finished, and the classroom was now deserted. Professor Flitwick was gone, as had the Ravenclaws that the Hufflepuffs had taken their lesson with. The lights were out, but light filtered in through the window, showing off the dust dancing in the air.

"Hello, Albus."

He almost jumped out of surprise, and looked behind him, to find the quizzical and bemused face of Amelia Bones, a first year Ravenclaw that he had befriended in Herbology a few weeks before. She had long brown hair that fell down to her shoulders. Sometimes she wore it in a ponytail, but not today. She also had brown eyes.

"Are you proud of me for remembering your name? I've been saying it over and over to myself before bed. I hope you don't think that's weird."

"No, Amelia… It's fine. Why are you here? I thought I was alone."

Amelia seemed to ponder that question for a few seconds before giving him an answer. What did she need to think about?

"Well, I suppose it started when you came into lesson. You looked all sad, and I heard two of the boys sat next to me talking about you. Then you hid under the desk at the end of class, which seemed odd, but looked like fun, so I thought I'd join you."

It didn't surprise Albus that Amelia had seen him and hide and decided to join him. It seemed like the kind of thing that she would do. What he was more surprised about was that she had been able to tell that he was sad in the first place. She wasn't the best at understanding other people's emotions.

"So why are you sad?"

"I thought you said that you heard some boys talking about it."

"Well, I heard your name mentioned but I wasn't really paying attention. I was trying to concentrate on not exploding the feather we were meant to levitate. So, why are you sad?"

He sighed. He had already been forced into talking to Victoria about it on the way here. She had refused to let him walk to class by himself after what James did on the way there. He hoped that she hadn't come to pick him up.

"Quidditch stuff."

"Quidditch? I heard there was a game on, but it doesn't interest me. Are you sad because you lost?"

He furrowed his brow slightly. How had she not heard about the game and the result? It had been all people had been talking about since it happened.

"No, we won."

Amelia pursed her lips and blinked a few times. That was what she did when she was puzzled or confused by something, which was fairly often. She didn't understand people.

"Oh, so why are you upset?"

"Well, I'm a Potter. My dad was the youngest seeker at Hogwarts for one hundred years. My mum played for the Holyhead Harpies and is now Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports. Being good at Quidditch runs in my blood. I can't escape it, even if I don't like it."

There was a few seconds of silence. Albus looked to Amelia to see if her puzzled face was on, but it wasn't. She was just smiling slightly.

"You're being silly. If you don't like it then don't like it. My mum was a Hufflepuff and my dad is a muggle. I'm still a Ravenclaw witch. Your parents were both Gryffindors, and yet you're a Hufflepuff. I guess what I'm trying to say is that we don't have to be like our parents. Don't let who they are define you."

Albus looked at Amelia, shocked that she had said something that made so much sense, and that it had spanned more than one sentence, with no tangents at all. She stuck out her lip at him and stared back, questioningly.

"What's wrong? Did I say something stupid?"

"No. Not at all. Exactly the opposite. I feel much better. Thanks Amelia."

And he did feel better. He didn't need James, or his mum and dad. He just needed to be himself. He was Albus Potter, and he would do Hogwarts however he wanted to do Hogwarts.

Harry stood outside the run down shack, along with Ernie and Dimitar. The weather was always grim and grey around the lake which surrounded the magical prison of Azkaban. Kingsley had got rid of the Dementors soon after being named permanent Minister for Magic. After that they had been forced to get in some of the world's foremost magical meteorologists to manipulate the weather.

There was a queer mist slowly moving across the lake, and a few bats had been disturbed from their resting place on the roof of the shack. The squeaking was mild, though he was slightly surprised that they were awake at this time of night. Ernie stepped forward slightly and then tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned around to talk to his former Hufflepuff companion.

"What happens to her now, Harry? Does she go free? Does she get her life back after everything that she did to us, and then what she did to the muggleborns and halfbloods during the Second Wizarding War? She may not have been a Death Eater, but she was as close to being one as is possible to be."

Ernie wasn't wrong. Umbridge had done some horrible things during her time associated with the Ministry of Magic. She had deserved her sentence more than most others. Why was Kingsley letting her out now? He had looked at her file and it had definitely said that her release date wasn't due for another few years. Why had she been released early?

"She will be remanded into the care of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. She'll be sent to a safe house where she will be held under watch. They won't ever allow her to practice magic again."

It was more than she deserved. She deserved to be sat in a damp, dark, dank cell for the rest of her days, away from any family or relationships, and instead Hermione, who had suffered at her hands just as much as he or Ernie had, and Kingsley had decided that she didn't deserve her full punishment.

"That doesn't seem like enough to me."

"It isn't our job to judge the prisoners or the decisions of the Minister for Magic. Its our job to see that his instructions get done."

The eastern European Auror stepped forward. He had been living in England enough for his English to be pretty good. His advice was sound. Maybe they shouldn't let their person feelings for Umbridge affect the jobs that they were doing.

Just then he heard a high pitch scream come from inside the shack. He turned to the door and tried the handle, but it was locked. He saw a flash of green light through the window, and quickly pulled out his wand.

"Alohamora!"

He called out the charm, and the door clicked open. He stepped inside, and found a chair overturned and the table broken. Some more bats were squawking around the chimney, but Harry's eyes were instead trained on the dead body of the woman laid on the floor of the room, her toad face twisted in one final expression of shock.


	5. The Shrieking Shack

Harry was sat in his desk at the Auror Office in the Ministry of Magic building. Ernie Macmillan was stood just in front of him, holding two cups of coffee, collected from downstairs. He slipped one of them onto Harry's desk, and then sat himself down in the seat opposite. Harry took a sip of the coffee. Ernie hadn't moved to take a sip.

"How should we approach this, Harry? Umbridge was murdered in a locked room with three trained Aurors guarding the only entrance. Yet you are certain that you saw the killing curse being used. Someone had to have got in and out of that room."

Harry had been thinking about the situation pretty much non-stop since it had happened. There were plenty of people that might have wanted Umbridge dead. There were significantly fewer that could have actually got themselves in that room. There was no apparition that close to Azkaban, and that shack wasn't included on the Floo Network. Besides, had someone used magical transportation then they could have tracked it.

There had been nothing like that. Someone had managed to get in and out of there without magical means, without any of them realising.

"There is something else though. Two of the three Aurors present had personal reason to target Dolores Umbridge and want her dead. People may start to talk that it was us that were responsible for thus."

"Youre right. It might look suspicious to some people. I don't want news of this being released to members of the public just yet. Not until we are able to investigate further."

Just then there was a knock on the door. It was pushed open, and Hermione was on the other side. She stepped into the room. She also had two cups of coffee in her hands. It took a few seconds, but she soon spotted Harry's own cup and smiled awkwardly.

"I'm sorry… I thought you could us-"

"Don't worry about it. Ernie was just heading out to secure the murder site. Make sure that nothing contaminates it. Weren't you, Ernie?"

Macmillan nodded, and got out of the chair. He took his coffee and left the room. Hermione slipped down into the vacant seat. She crossed her legs and looked at him. Harry furrowed his brow slightly. She had come down here to talk to him. Why? It had to be about Umbridge.

"I have something to tell you. Its about Umbridge. Its about the reason that me and Kinglsey decided to offer her early release, and it might be why she got killed."

There was a brief pause. Hermione looked down at her feet and then back up at him. Harry waited, although he wished that she would just tell him what she had come here to tell him. Was she deliberately trying to raise the suspense.

"Umbridge was informing on some of the other prisoners in Azkaban. She gave us information that lengthened the imprisonments of Augustus Rookwood, Rabastan Lestrange, and Corban Yaxley, among others. As a result, we pushed forward her release date under the condition that we would keep her under constant supervision. I think- I think that whoever killed her was someone affected by her betrayal of her fellow inmates."

Harry nodded to himself as he thought of the possibility that this was the reason that Umbridge had been killed. Yes, there was a possibility that someone could have killed Umbridge for these reasons, but how would they have known? And that didn't resolve the problem of how they actually managed to kill Umbridge.

Still, it meant that there were two possibilities here. Someone had somehow found out about Umbridge's snitching and had killed her because of it, or someone that Umbridge had wronged before she was sent to Azkaban had managed to do it.

Those were the only possibilities.

The wind was cold on Albus' skin as he crept through the grounds of Hogwarts, his hand in Victoria's, as she dragged him across the grass. It was cold, and her skin was warm, so he appreciated the physical contact. At least he wouldn't lose one of his hands to the cold.

She had woken him from the comfort of his snug bed in the Hufflepuff Dormitory to bring him out here? Had he done something to upset her?

There weren't many lights still on in the castle of Hogwarts. One candle glimmered in the window of the Headmaster's Study, and another sat on the ledge of the Muggle Studies classroom. Professor Finch-Fletchley was up late.

There were also a few lights still on in the windows of the small hut down near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid, was clearly still awake. Either that or he was in the Forest. Or he'd just accidentally left the candle on.

Victoria stopped them in front of a gently swaying tree. It was bulbous and the branches looked thick and heavy. Albus couldn't help but thinking that it was emitting some sort of whistling noise, as if it was snoring.

"The Whomping Willow."

Victoria whispered to him in a hushed voice. He balked slightly, remembering some of the stories that his dad had told him about this particular tree. It had almost killed him in his second year. Why would Victoria bring him here.

"Its sleeping. Try not to wake it up."

He didn't need telling a second time and gently nodded his head. Victoria pulled him slightly closer, towards where there was a small gap amongst the roots of the tree. She crouched down and slipped inside. He followed.

Underneath was a cramped, dark tunnel. They slowly edged along it, past the twirling and twisting network of roots, across the damp and dirty soil. Every now and again Victoria took his hand, to lead him through a tight bend or squeeze. He had to crouch under a few low hanging roots. The walk seemed like a long one, but soon they came up into a rickety, rundown room.

There was peeling paper on the walls and the smell of damp hung over the place. A table in the corner had been smashed. A window on the opposite side of the room had wooden boards nailed over it.

Albus knew where Victoria had taken him. This was the Shrieking Shack.

The Shack had been built back when his grandfather had been at school, so that Remus Lupin, who had been Albus' father's friend, could attend Hogwarts despite the fact that he was a werewolf. It had then been where one of Albus' namesakes, Severus Snape, had been killed by Lord Voldemort during the climax of the Second Wizarding War. In this very room.

There was a creaking on the floorboards, and Albus and Victoria looked up. Coming down the stairs was a stern looking man, with a thin waist and long legs. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was black, with a touch of grey on the side, and his eyes held a demented look to them. This man was a strange to Albus, and there was something scary about him.

The man cocked his head, and let out a wide grin. Had he been expecting them?

And then the mans face started to do something strange. The skin started to smoothen out, and the lips got smaller. The chair changed from black to a sandy blonde, and the front two teeth went slightly crooked. The clothes stayed the same, but suddenly it was a different person stood in front of them.

"You're late, Victoria."

Albus' cousin broke into a smile and rushed forward to kiss the man that Albus now realised was Teddy Lupin, who was basically another of his cousins. The kiss lasted a few seconds, and then they hugged for a few seconds longer, eventually they let go of each other and stood there, holding hands.

"Sorry if I scared you Albie, but can never be too sure. Headmistress Aurora doesn't exactly know about these secret meetings. I wouldn't want someone to come along that passage and recognise me."

"Your father told Teddy about this place over the summer, Albus. Said we could use it to meet up during the school year if we wanted. We think there's someone else you should meet. Upstairs."

And so Albus grabbed the bannister and climbed the stairs. He looked down at Victoria, who urged him on with a nod, and Teddy, who smiled at him encouragingly. He continued the climb. At the top he found a corridor, with one door. It was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside. There was someone there, waiting for him.

His brother James.

It was oddly quiet on Diagon Alley that morning. Draco stepped onto the street through the wall at the back of the Leaky Cauldron. The school rush was over, so that meant that Ollivander's, Flourish and Blott's and the Magical Menagerie were all empty. There was a couple of wizards milling outside Gringotts, and two witches were sharing an ice cream outside Frederick Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

He was surprised about that, because it was a grey day. The clouds were low and it looked like it might start raining any second. There was a light breeze. The hairs on his arms stood up. It was cold, and it felt like someone was watching him. His eyes passed back over the witches, and then the wizards, but none of them cared about him.

Then what was the feeling all about?

He took a few steps, heading towards the hallowed halls of Gringotts. One of the goblins had sent an owl. They had to resolve some debts and accounts that still stood in his father's name. The Dark Lord had never approved of the use of goblins as bankers, but that hadn't stopped Lucius from exploiting the systems that the goblins had put in place.

Or had they been exploiting him? Draco supposed that he would find out when he spoke with the goblin in charge of the Malfoy family account. He had come urgently. There was no use spending time knocking around the empty mansion with only his mother for company; the ghosts of Astoria and his father hanging over him.

Ghosts. It wasn't literally their ghosts that were haunting him. At Hogwarts there were ghosts. Some of them were older than others. Neither Astoria nor his father had chosen to come back. He hoped that meant that they had been content when they passed on.

"Draco!"

His eyes moved off the ground as he heard his name ring through the alley. He looked up and found the red haired face of Ron Weasley looking at him from the door of one of the shops. From the door of the Weasley shop.

"Weasley."

"I just-"

Wasley took a step out of his shop and then faltered. It was as if he had planned on saying something but had then decided against it. Draco wasn't surprised about that. He had picked on Ron Weasley a lot when they were at Hogwarts together. He had no reason to show any affection for him. Maybe he was just hear to mock him for his father's death.

"I just wanted you to know. I understand what its like losing a parent. If you ever- If you ever want to talk then you know where to find me."

Draco hadn't been expecting that. Kind words he could take from Potter, who he had buried the hatchet with many year ago, but he had never truly apologised to Ron or his family. Why was he trying to be kind to him now.

The thought tugged at his heartstrings slightly. So many of the articles published about his father had been harsh. Why was Ron now coming to him to comfort him?

"When I lost my dad it was like the world was ending. I didn't want to talk to anyone except Hermione. With Astoria gone I figured you might like to have someone that you know you can talk to. About anything."

Draco didn't respond at first. He was still so confused about the whole thing. His father would be furious. What would he have thought about a Weasley leaving a Malfoy speechless? He would never have approved. Draco realised that he couldn't do this now.

"Thank you, We- Thank you, Ron. I- I can't- I'm sorry."

And with that Draco apparated away, leaving Ron alone, stood in the street, his heart on his sleeve.

"Reparo."

Teddy moved his wand as he spoke the magic word. The broken chair in front of him sprung to life, and moments later it was fixed and as good as new. He politely offered it forwards for Victoria, who sat down in it, a smile on her face. That caused him to smile, and that was followed by another tender kiss. It had been too long since he had last seen her.

"How is Hogwarts? Have your first few weeks gone well? Is the entire castle crying because I'm no longer in attendance?"

"Literal tears of joy."

She giggled and he laughed. Another kiss, and then he pulled away.

"Seriously though…"

"Fine, fine. Not much has changed. There's a new Flying teacher and Professor Vector has become the Head of Slytherin. Oh, and Professor Dunbar was kept on for Defence Against the Dark Arts. You know she was only appointed on a trial basis last year right? Well she got the job permanently."

"Professor Dunbar… She was the one who got the job on Harry's recommendation right? She was in his year when he was at Hogwarts. I don't really remember her."

Victoria scoffed and Teddy laughed. Another kiss.

"That's because you barely went to any of your classes last year, Head Boy. You didn't set a very good example for the younger students."

"I get easily distracted."

He laughed at that himself, and Victoria giggled. Another kiss. Then another, and another after that. By Merlin's Beard he'd missed her and her giggle.

"Besides I passed all my exams. Got my choice of jobs now. Harry offered me a place at the Ministry."

"That's great news, Teddy!"

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him deeply. He kissed back, but pulled away a few seconds after.

"I don't know if I want to take it. Being an Auror is a big commitment. Its what my mum did. But my grandma is getting ill more and more. She raised me. I need to be there for her. I need to look after her."

Victoria looked into his eyes. She had such pretty eyes. They were sad and soulful, but also full of life and inspiring.

"I love you."

He whispered to her, and she smiled back at him.

"I love you too."

Another kiss. This one was the longest one so far. He didn't ever want to pull away, but he knew that he had to.

"I miss seeing the moonlight shimmer off the Great Lake. Would you take me there?"

Victoria giggled again. That had always been where they'd go when he'd been at Hogwarts, if they wanted some time to be alone.

"It would be my pleasure."

"I get how you feel. When I first came to Hogwarts everyone only focused on the Potter thing too. It felt like they didn't care about my first name, only my last. I found my own way to stand out, to separate myself from our dad."

"By playing Quidditch and misbehaving? Those are the two things dad did at school."

James laughed. Albus' brother had a strange laugh. It was like a chirp that passed through his teeth. His top lip always curved slightly whenever you heard the sound, and afterwards he'd often lick his lips.

"But, dear brother, I intend to do them better. I was sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, Albus. You've never been brave or big or want to be the centre of attention. Hufflepuff is the perfect place for you, but that's not a bad thing. The Sorting Hat isn't ever wrong."

Albus shuffled slightly on his feet. What his brother was saying made a lot of sense. It was similar to what Amelia had told him before. Why should he let the legacy of his mum and dad dictate what he did or how he behaved. James did what he did, not out of a desire to be like their parents, but because he was ambitious and brave enough to try and better them. Albus had to find his own, Hufflepuff way of getting past the Potter name.

"Then why did you do that to me in the corridor the other day?"

James sighed and looked down at his feet. Albus knew what that meant. He had known his brother for too long. James often found himself apologising for stuff. He had a tell for when he was lying. Whenever he looked down at his shoes you knew the apology was sincere.

"I don't know, Albus. I was mad and upset and I took it out on you. I hated myself for doing it the moment after. I wanted to apologise but I didn't think you'd want me to. Does that make sense?"

Albus nodded, and sat down next to his brother. He put his arm around James. The elder Potter boy turned and looked at his younger sibling.

"I told the rest of the Gryffindors to leave you alone. If you have any more trouble from any of them just let me know. I can't have my brother being picked on. You already have Victoria looking out for you. I want to do that too."

Albus nodded again, and hugged his brother. James reciprocated the embrace, and they sat there for a few seconds, just two brothers who were reconciling after a fight. It was James that broke the silence with four simple words.

"I'm proud of you."

Harry found himself walking through slanted corridors, and across creaking floors. The walls were covered in damp, and whatever wallpaper there ever had been was peeling away. The rooms were full of silence, and he could hear his breaths. They were deep and strong. They didn't sound like his own breaths.

The shadow that was cast on the floor was long, and the shoulders were broad. That wasn't his shadow. What was happening here?

The breaths were getting deeper and louder. He could feel them in his bones as they echoed in his ears. They were speeding up too. It wasn't as if the person was doing anything strenuous. It was more like the breathing was building up to something. It was like a heartbeat, or a metronome.

Something was about to happen. He could sense it.

He started to recognise the corridors that the shadow was walking through. The peeling wallpaper. The damp on the walls. The broken pictures and the creaking floorboards.

He was inside the Shrieking Shack.

The figure entered a room that was familiar to Harry. This was where he had once encountered his godfather, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. This was where he had found out the truth about his parents and Sirius and Peter Pettigrew.

But none of those three were here. Instead there was a man, thin and pale with long lanky black hair. It was greasy, and there was wide eyes on the man's face. His pupils were small, and there was sweat on his brow. He was clearly scared.

"The mark burned. The mark burned. Why? Is- Is he back?"

There was no response from the shadow as the man spoke. His voice was snivelly and whining. The mark? This man had to be one of the former Death Eaters that had avoided imprisonment in Azkaban. Harry couldn't put a name to the face or voice.

The shadow raised his arm, and it became clear that he was carrying a wand. The former Death Eater gaped slightly and his eyes widened. There was a flash of green light that lit up the room.

And then Harry was awake.


End file.
